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Sunday, March 12, 2006
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looking for stuff in all the wrong places...Among the search terms that led pilgrims to Blogcabin today...
"epinephrine intuitive" (I'd like to think so... )
"can the smell of candles make hamster sick" (Only patchouli.)
"stuffing your bra" (Oh, please. Like that's necessary.)
"what's up with meg ryan's lips" (Probably the collagen amounts... )
Actually, I get the most search hits from song lyrics I post, the most frequent of which are "they will see us waving from such great heights" and "something in your eyes makes me want to lose myself." But usually I only post a portion of the lyrics, so people end up disappointed.
The only thing that people are consistently scoring with is this magical photo, which has been among the top ten to twenty Google image hits for "cute baby" on occasion, and causes Blogcabin to receive a good ten to twenty extra hits a day...
Mmmm... babyness!
I love the internet. Kind of. When it's not being creepy.
9:01:53 PM 
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all will be well.There's a song that Catherine and I have been listening to rather obsessively for the past couple of weeks by the Gabe Dixon Band. The lyrics are as follows:
The new
day dawns
And I am practicing my purpose once again
It is fresh and it is fruitful if I win
but if I lose, ooh, I don't know
I'll be tired but I will turn and I will go
Only guessing 'til I get there then I'll know
Ohh, I will know
And all the children walking home past the factories
Can see the light that's shining in my window
As I write this song to you
And all the cars running fast along the interstate
Can feel the love that radiates
Illuminating what I know is true
And all will be well
Even after all the promises you've broken to yourself
All will be well
You can ask me how but only time will tell
The winter's cold
But the snow still lightly settles on the trees
And a mess is still a moment I can seize until I know
That all will be well
Even though sometimes this is hard to tell
And the fight is just as frustrating as hell
All will be well
And all the children walking home past the factories
Can see the light that's shining in my window
As I write this song to you
And all the cars running fast along the interstate
Can feel the love that radiates
Illuminating what I know is true
And all will be well
Even after all the promises you've broken to yourself
All will be well
You can ask me how but only time will tell
You got to keep it up
And don't give up
And chase your dreams
And you will find
All in time
And all the children walking home past the factories
Can see the light that's shining in my window
As I write this song to you
And all the cars running fast along the interstate
Can feel the love that radiates
Illuminating what I know is true
And all will be well
Even after all the promises you've broken to yourself
All will be well
You can ask me how but only time will tell
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It's a beautiful song, really. Mr. Dixon sounds like a young Billy Joel, and if you don't like early Billy, then I can't really help you, because you're crazy. I think he had one of the clearest, sweetest voices ever when he was just the "Piano Man," and not Christie Brinkley's husband or Elton John's touring partner... or the voice of the New York Tourism Board.
But I digress. As usual.
This tune came along at a time when I was experiencing an acute inner chaos about the state of things in my world. I was working hard, moving forward with projects and the daily events of my life, but bluntly ignoring the turmoil I was feeling below the surface.
Turmoil is inconvenient and messy.
It wasn't something that I was prepared to embrace.
And besides that, I usually tend to ignore things until I feel like processing them, anyhow. Here's my personal 12-step program:
- An event occurs with difficult results, or a difficult situation emerges.
- I consider said event or situation for approximately ten seconds, and analyze whether or not I feel like dealing with it.
- I conclude immediately that I do not.
- I push it below the surface, and only think about it between 2 and 3 am each day, if I'm awake. Which is somewhat of a given.
- Three months later, I acknowledge said event or situation in conversation with a close friend.
- The close friend looks at me with giant cartoon eyes and asks what I'm going to do.
- I respond with a smile and a sip of my coffee: "I don't know. This is a good latte."
- The friend continues to ask me about the problem for weeks thereafter, getting increasingly frustrated that I appear to be doing nothing to remedy my circumstances.
- The friend gives up.
- Eventually, approximately five years after the event or situation, I do something.
- I mention it again to the friend, who goes, "What are you talking about?"
- We continue drinking our coffee.
It seems simple enough to me, but everyone else seems to think it's neurotic.
Judgers.
I'm not sure how I learned this particular drawn-out coping mechanism -- my parents and friends are exponentially more proactive and self-care-oriented -- but I've been following the steps for as long as I can remember.
I'm not sure if I'm basing my strategy on the notion that "time heals all wounds," or if I simply believe that bad stuff will go away if I ignore it. I certainly don't ignore anyone else's bad stuff. I'm quite certain that I'm an immediately supportive friend when I'm called upon to help deal with something... anything, really.
But back to the song.
When I initially heard the lovely little melody and read the lyrics, I smiled with a sort of odd recognition.
"Why, that's SO me. I think that 'all will be well,' too. I don't know how, but I always think so. After all, I just tend to let life and problems flow to their own natural conclusion."
Um.
Could I have missed the point any more? Could I know myself any less?
The song is not about the sublimation of difficulty, or breezily delusional thought mechanisms. The song is not about me.
The song is about having faith that doing the right things will result in the right things, even if the road between the two is long and mysterious.
That's where the trust comes in -- that all will work itself out in time if you live your life as best you can. But that's also where action comes in. You can't sit still and hope. You have to move in a direction. And if you move in a direction, you are more likely to experience positive change.
That's not necessarily how things happen, no matter how much conviction you have that they should. But it's a better way of moving through life than most: believing that your efforts will eventually bear results.
That, and the fairly unshakable reality that the right thing is worth doing just because it's right.
I know this on an intellectual level. I really do.
It's just a matter of letting it slip beneath my skin and become a part of me.
Granted, I'm 31. I'm relatively young. I'm still growing and evolving, and I hope to remain open to growth for the rest of my years on the planet.
But I'm also stubborn as hell. And really good at sitting still and letting life weigh on me until my neck is bent and my heart beats a little faster at the steady, subtle increase of pressure.
I've broken a lot of promises to myself.
I've lost opportunities because I did nothing to grasp possibility when it appeared.
I've let wounds turn into scars because I did nothing to soothe them when they were tearing me apart.
I've hurt the people I love because -- while I was busy pretending things were fine -- I was breaking their hearts with my self-destruction. It was unspoken and quiet and dark, but I know it has changed several of my relationships and caused me to lose the trust of some very dear friends.
Why?
Because I didn't believe that "all would be well." I believed that things were going to be awful, and that was much, much, much too much to bear. Instead of taking life head-on, I stood in the eye of the storm, marveling at the peace and quiet, while all around me, trees were being pulled up by their roots.
(Nonna, this makes me think of you. I love you and miss you. And I'm learning from you, too.)
Now I am taking a different tack. Or I've started to. It's been a years-long process, just like the process that has taken me to this point. Things have picked up a bit as of late, but I'm not claiming any hills or victories just yet.
But this song is kind of an ebenezer for me along the way.
I'm trying to have faith.
Is everything going to be okay? I think so.
You can ask me how, but only time will tell.
12:51:11 PM
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insomnia haiku.
o, sleepytime tea
you write cheques your herbs can't cash
and now I must pee.
1:27:13 AM
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© Copyright
2006
Meg Fowler.
Last update:
4/1/06; 11:43:49 PM. |
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